Sword of Lost Destiny
by MarbleGlove
Summary: An interlude, a story, and a day at the Ren Faire with Methos. OneShot


PG An interlude, a story, and a day at the Ren Faire with Methos.

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I don't own. Anything anyone else recognizes, I don't own. A good working hypothesis is that I don't own anything. I do own a toaster, but it's not in the story, it's just what I would have to give up if you were to sue me for kidnapping these characters. Leave my toaster alone.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sword of Lost Destiny

by MarbleGlove

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adam Pierson and Joe Dawson were wandering around the renaissance fair.

Duncan MacLoed had agreed to be part of a reenactment at the RenFair and Joe Dawson had come along to see the show. Mac had tried to convince Adam to participate, and while he had refused, he had come along to watch with Joe. After the first several 'battles' however, the two watchers had wondered off. Dawson was not up for too much walking though, so after seeing most of the fair, Adam and Joe settled down at a bench and Joe tried to wheedle information out of the deceptively young looking Adam Pierson, aka Methos. This worked by Dawson pointing to something and commenting on it's realistic-ness or lack thereof and trying to provoke Methos into a response. Methos found this just as amusing as Joe did and would respond with stories that he had heard at some point, anecdotes of what he had done in the past, or stories that he just made up on the spur of the moment -- none of them told in the first person. Dawson was so enjoying himself and Methos' excellent (and long honed) story-telling abilities that it took him a while to realize that they had gained an audience. Methos was well aware of the gathering group from the beginning, but was feeling sufficiently mellow that he didn't object to spending some time as a story-teller.

Other people began to take turns with Dawson, pointing out something that would trigger a new story, or an extension or addition to a previous story. A few of them even pointed to themselves to get included, or at least someone like them, a distant ancestor perhaps, into some adventure.

At one point a boy came up with a sword, which made Dawson rather nervous although given how many of the crowd openly wore swords he knew he shouldn't be. But what made Dawson especially intrigued was the look Methos had on his face when he looked at the makers mark. He held the sword as if he remembered it. Dawson wondered if it could have belonged to some immortal that Methos had known. Immortals do not give up their swords easily and if it was being carried around by some random kid, chances were, the immortal was dead. Methos started a new story for this sword, with an introduction:

"Now this is a very special sword. Swords are generally made for adventure, for honor, for fighting, and for killing. And this sword is no different. It was made for just these purposes. But it is different because it was not used for them. No. This is a sword of peace, a sword of happy endings, and a sword of lost destinies.

"Once upon a time, there was a magician. He was a powerful magician who could do many magical things like healing himself from any wound and looking into the future to see what was to come, but he also had a day job. His day job was making swords. He was, in fact, one of the best sword makers in all the world, and certainly the best in all of Europe, for that is where he lived while making his swords.

"Everyone who was anyone knew the swordsmith, although very few people knew he was also a magician. This sword is one of the swords he made.

"When this sword was made there were many street children, children who for one reason or another had no home. They made some money by doing minor chores for people: delivering messages, holding horses, and stuff like that as well as some theft. Many of the street children wanted to break into the store of the swordsmith, but they couldn't because the swordsmith was really a magician. One day while just looking at the swords through the window, the swordsmith came out. All of the gathered kids tried to run, but one was caught and held. He had done nothing wrong but he was still worried that the swordsmith would kill him with one of the many beautiful blades made for killing. But the swordsmith did not kill him. When the swordsmith who was a magician had grabbed him, he had felt a destiny attached to the young boy. The magician looked at the boy and saw violence and adventure, suffering and joy. The boy had a destiny.

"Like most destiny's it would start out violently and it would end violently. He would meet an evil warrior who would beat him severely and kill somebody he loved. And the boy would want revenge. He would become a powerful fighter and would become like Batman, a dark dangerous force in the shadows generally for good. But he would fight until the day he died, and that final death would be violent. If you're always fighting, no matter how good you are, you will eventually run across someone better. But, the magician thought, he might last longer if he were a really good fighter.

"And so the magician started giving the boy small jobs to do, as well as a corner to sleep in and a bit of food each day. And most importantly to the boy, even more important than the roof over his head or the food in his stomach, was the lessons in how to use a sword. The boy always wondered why the swordsmith helped him because the swordsmith never told him about his destiny. The boy grew to become a young man, and his sword play grew as well. He also fell in love with a young widow. The magician was saddened by this because he knew the young woman was the one who would be killed because of the young man's destiny. But he said nothing. And the young man became a true master swordsman although he didn't realize this for some time since the magician was always better.

"After many years, and after the boy was a boy no longer but a grown man, the magician decided to move on. To go do something else for a while, and so he went to the young man and gave him enough money to make it on his own in the world, and let him select any sword in the shop to be his. This is the sword he chose." Methos stroked the pommel of the sword that lay in his lap, and was silent for a moment before continuing.

"The magician then packed everything up and left. No one knew where he went to.

"And the young man was left with a sword, some money, the love of his beloved, and a destiny he didn't know about. But one day the evil warrior that the magician had foreseen came and challenged our young man, and here is where destiny changed. The boy was not beaten and his beloved not killed. He wasn't as good as the evil warrior, but he was good enough to fend him off and his sword was much better than the evil warriors blade. So the young man was not defeated, and he made no vow of revenge, and he and his were not hurt. Several times, destiny came calling. The young man became a man who was not so young, and finally a rather old man and was challenged many times in his life, but each time he was good enough to protect what needed protecting and he never vowed revenge. He married his beloved and raised their children. He lived a long happy life, and died peacefully in bed. He never knew why the swordsmith had helped him, and he never knew of the destiny that was rightfully his. He was so well prepared for a life of adventure and danger, of pain and loss, that he was able to avoid it all. And instead he lived happily ever after until the day he died." Methos smiled rather wistfully.

Dawson just looked at Methos trying to figure out the specifics of the tale. Was Methos the magician-swordsmith? The boy was obviously a pre-immortal who had never met a violent death, but instead married a woman who already had children and he lived a normal life, leaving behind descendants. Was the boy standing in front of them now one of those descendants?

The crowd was happy and the stories went on, but both Dawson and a woman in the crowd were lost in thought as the stories continued. Eventually Mac found them, after all his demonstrations were over. "So Joe, what lies has the old man been trying to get you to believe?"

"Just enough truth to confuse me."

"It confuses me too." A woman spoke up. Three pairs of eyes looked at the middle-aged woman. She turned to Methos. "Your story about the sword. As far as I know it was correct. My great-great grandfather was a street kid until he was taken in by a swordsmith. The swordsmith disappeared later, but not before giving him that sword and enough money to start his own fencing salon and be able to marry a young widow. How did you know?"

"Wait, I missed a true story? Damn it, old man!"

Methos grinned, saying, "these things happen," as an answer to both Mac and the woman.

And Methos wandered off whistling, MacLoed quickly following, leaving Joe to try to quiz the woman about anything she knew without giving too much away.


End file.
